Elenwen's Journal
by An Unsavoury Character
Summary: Excerpts from the personal journal of Elenwen, First Emissary of the Aldmeri Dominion to the Kingdom of Skyrim, around the time of the dragon crisis of 4E 201.
1. 15 Last Seed: A Delicate Situation

**A/N: This is my first piece of writing I've submitted to this site. Just thought I'd throw that out there. Hopefully I didn't do anything wrong. I've always liked the Thalmor and their ambassador Elenwen in a kind of "me gusta" way, so I decided to write Elenwen's journal for her! Also Skyrim main quest fanfics are a dime a dozen, so I thought I would write something a bit different from the viewpoint of a character who doesn't get enough mentioned very much.**

**Disclaimer: All content from TESV: Skyrim belongs to Bethesda Softworks.**

Loredas, 15 Last Seed 4E 201

This morning, I finalized the guest list for my upcoming reception at the Embassy, and had Malborn take the last few invitations down to the courier in Solitude. Alas, it seems that I will not be able to enjoy my Sundas afternoon by uncorking the last 139 vintage Arenthia red and enjoying a manual uncoiling session with our latest prisoner in the basement as I had hoped, for I have been most unfortunately detained by my duties as First Emissary. A rather sensational piece of news has come up; as I understand an Imperial ambush knocked over a Stormcloak convoy near Darkwater Crossing, in the south of Eastmarch. Leading them was none other than the man himself, Ulfric Stormcloak. In a somewhat uncharacteristic moment of good reason, Ulfric had his men stand down and submit to authority. General Tullius is travelling to Helgen to personally oversee the execution, and so shall I.

Of course, the internal politics of Skyrim are of no interest to me or my government, and I will be attending only to ensure that the terms of the White Gold Concordat are adhered to: approving the burial ground, ensuring Ulfric doesn't become a martyr for Talos and such. At least that's my reason for attendance in a strictly superficial capacity. As much as I'd like to see that dog Stormcloak put where he belongs - that is to say, a mass grave with his head on a pike - his death will surely signal the end of the rebellion. And for peace to be brought to Skyrim: dangerous, very dangerous. I cannot allow the Empire to rest easy knowing their province is secure. To this effect, Rulindil and I have devised a plan to start a diversionary fire in the keep, thus forcing the Imperials' attention away from the execution.

For a major Imperial fort town to be without some form of Thalmor presence would be most irregular, and it so happens that Helgen is no exception. Our agent, Valmir, has served undercover with the Skyrim legions for 12 years. Although one would have thought that his Altmer appearances would have betrayed him, he has earned the trust of the Imperials and advanced to the prestigious rank of Captain through his constant deprecation of his rightful ruling government, indeed a grueling prospect for any well-bred mer. His unit is currently garrisoned at Helgen, and although the duty of directing the executions has befallen a colleague, he will still be in an apt position to start a diversionary confugration.

I propose that, whilst the majority of the Imperial troops will undoubtedly be placed on high alert and posted outside during the executions to stand guard for the slightest hint of a Stormcloak insurrection, Captain Valmir will be able to slip away inside the keep without raising suspicions. Perhaps he will accidentally spill bear fat in the fire, or carelessly knock over a lantern. Nothing that can't be helped by copious amounts of oil, and some skillful application of the destruction school. Once the keep has been engulfed in flame from within, it is hoped that amidst the ensuing chaos, Ulfric Stormcloak may be able to loose his binds and use the so-called Voice to escape. It's a long shot, but there are few other feasible options short of a direct intervention, which I cannot permit.

Tomorrow I shall make contact with Valmir, and brief him of his mission. Until then I must retire, for I have a long ride ahead of me in the morning.

** Please take a moment to tell me what you thought of my Elenwen interior monologue, and if you enjoyed it, there's two more chapters where it came from and others in the works, and if you didn't I'll probably be uploading them anyway.**


	2. 16 Last Seed: Visiting Dragonsreach

Sundas, 16 Last Seed 4E 201

I left the embassy at 8 o'clock sharp this morning. Dusk was saddled and waiting for me as I exited my solar, while Arwen and Irenwe have been assigned to my personal guard. We crossed the Karth river out of Haafingar and followed the main road south through Whiterun hold and Rorikstead, before making a detour through Falkreath to approach Helgen from the west gate, as if merely passing through en route to another destination. Conveniently, Captain Valmir was taking a stroll through the township's main thoroughfare as I arrived, allowing me to discreetly convey him his sealed orders as I passed by.

To complete the illusion, I took this opportunity of being in the vicinity of Whiterun to make an impromptu inspection of the city, which I haven't been able to do for some time. I'm afraid to say I was not impressed by what I saw. As a result, Jarl Balgruuf the Greater's steward was quick to accommodate me at the hilltop palace of Dragonsreach, where I shall be staying tonight.

When we arrived in the city we had a run-in with a 'priest' of Talos, known as Heimskir, who could be found spouting his blasphemous notions of false gods at the townsfolk. When Justiciar Irenwe confronted the heretic she was shoved into a stream before the suspect sprinted away, such is the cowardly nature of these barbarians, and despite the efforts of Justiciar Arwen and myself to subdue him he was able to flee the city and has not been seen since. Jarl Balgruuf apologised for the incident and assured me that he had not been aware of a Talos 'priest' in his city. I also took this opportunity to remind the Jarl to have the Talos statue in the Wind district plaza demolished, as is his obligation as an imperial citizen under Section 3, Article 7 of the White Gold Concordat.

Yet the Jarl continued to languish upon his throne in a most dreadfully recumbent posture, apparently unable to appreciate the full seriousness of my request. Maybe he would be more ready to comply if one of his infuriatingly precocious human offspring, who Balgruuf insisted upon having in his court and kept referring to myself as a "justicar", were to have an unfortunate accident whilst playing "hunt the elf", and fall off of the ramparts to his certain death. Justiciar Irenwe, now recovered from her exposure to the city's water features of course, informs me that the city wall is perilously uneven in places, and such a tragedy seems increasingly imminent. But a little ahead of its time, perhaps.

We dined in the enormous Great Hall of Dragonsreach. The pheasant roast was satisfactory, although despite this all the Jarl could offer me to drink was this foul Nord mead that seems to be so popular amongst the local detritus, or some cheap wine which I initially mistook for vinegar. I was forced to settle for a Cyrodiilic ale, a lesser of two evils courtesy of our Imperial colleagues, but such are the sacrifices one must make as an ambassador. The Jarl explained that the Dragonsreach's towering ceilings and expansive floorspace were to account for the dragon Numinex, who was allegedly once incarcerated there by one Olaf One-Eye in the Merethic era, hence the name. A preposterous piece of Nord folklore, for sure, but it would explain the curious skull mounted above the Jarl's throne.

I shall take my leave now, as the Imperials insist upon having their execution at a ghastly hour.

**A/N: The first chapter was rather short, so I deciced to upload the next two entries as well.**


	3. 17 Last Seed: The Helgen Incident

Disclaimer: All content from TESV: Skyrim belongs to Bethesda Softworks.

Morndas, 17 Last Seed

A most extraordinary occurrence took place during this morning's executions. I rode to Helgen with my personal guard, and met with General Tullius, who ensured me that everything was going to plan. For once I couldn't have agreed more with the man, as at that very moment Valmir had surely noticed my presence, affirming that the plan was clear to go ahead and was preparing to set the tower ablaze. Two carts arrived shortly thereafter, packed full of Stormcloak rabble and a couple of other undesirables the Imperials had scheduled for the block. Ulfric was gagged, I assumed this was so he couldn't further besmirch the Empire in death, but Tullius later informed me that this was to prevent him from "shouting".

The prisoners were promptly driven into the centre of the town, where the headsman awaited. Tullius then followed to direct the proceedings, but I stayed put, insisting that I had no interest in the barbarous details. Apart from that, I didn't want to be too close to the keep when it went up in flames, or indeed in the path of Ulfric's escape. As I waited, I heard the most unusual of calls reverberate about the landscape. Then came the first chop; evidently the Imperials had not even bothered with the last rites, in order to hasten Ulfric's demise. And still there was no sign Valmir's diversion. Needless to say, the situation seemed dire. Then, all of a sudden an enormous winged beast with scales of ebony that could only be described as a dragon swooped down and perched atop one of the towers.

Next the creature bellowed a column of flame at the scene of the execution, and lumps of incandescent stone rained from the sky. Fearing for my own personal safety, I fled the vicinity of the township at once and rode hard to the embassy. Reports are still unclear; with rumors of Ulfric riding back to Windhelm through the Rift being passed around in the idle chatter of travellers and city guards. But what seems to be a fairly unanimous summary of events is that the town was razed to the ground. Captain Valmir's fate is yet unknown. I would be most displeased to learn that he had perished in the attack; it would be a tremendous shame if over a decade's worth of undercover work was wasted in an instant.

But now is not the time to be sentimental. What I saw at Helgen was truly remarkable: I don't believe there have been any recorded sightings of dragons since the beginning of the Third Era, when they were driven out of Tamriel (or 'absorbed' by Tiber Septim as he ascended to godhood if you'd believe such foolish heresies). Furthermore, it would seem that this encounter might be more than a mere coincidence. The dragons' intervention at Helgen seems to be too convenient, and not just for our own purposes. Some individual, organisation or other party must have brought about the resurrection of a dragon, possibly from one of many dragon burial sites located around Skyrim.

Whomever this may be, however, remains unclear. It's obvious to say that they also have an interest in continuation of the Civil War, but it would be foolish to assume that their objectives our aligned with our own merely because of this. I would be tempted to suggest the Stormcloaks themselves, although with all seriousness I think that a dragon is somewhat beyond the capabilities of an armed mob of self-proclaimed traitors and heretics. What I omitted from my official report at this stage, however, is an instinctive feeling of mine that the Blades are somehow connected. After all, their origins can be traced back to the Akavirii Dragonguard of the First Era, so such an assumption would not be entirely unreasonable.

In any case, I've already taken the liberty to commission a full inquiry into the exact nature of this dragon phenomenon, and sent word to Alinor requesting a detachment of high mages to reinforce our positions; for I fear that this morning's events may be only the first of many dragon encounters. Naturally, the defense of our facilities and personnel is of the utmost importance, but as First Emissary, it is also my duty to consider the diplomatic implications of this phenomenon. For instance, the Nords are a stubborn people, and have been slow to dismiss their beliefs in the false god Talos as an uncivilised relic of a bygone age. But what if, then, as they lived in fear of a dragon menace were the Thalmor to emerge as their saviours? It could be to Skyrim what the Void Nights of 4E 98 were to Elsweyr, or even the Oblivion crisis was to the Summerset Isle. In short, even the most thick-skulled of Stormcloak barbarians would either become thralls to elvenkind overnight, or be promptly disposed of. What's more, it would be my ticket out of this frozen den of animals and back into everybody's good graces for sure.

I hope that this is only the start of a long and beneficial relationship with the dragons.


	4. 18 Last Seed: Aftermath

Tirdas, 18 Last Seed

Sadly General Tullius was only slightly singed during yesterday's attack at Helgen, and after staying behind to play at being a hero searching for survivors amongst the smouldering wreckage he returned to Castle Dour and called for a meeting of the Imperial council, among the delegates of which was myself. Unsurprisingly, the advent of a dragon in Tamriel has sparked a fair bit of concern to say the least. But when it comes down to it, it seems that the Empire has no better idea of what hit them than we do. The humans each seemed to have their own little pet theory. Perhaps the most intriguing was that of Legate Rikke, Tullius' ill-tempered lapdog. She claims that the return of the dragons, the "harbingers of the end times" has been foretold by prophecy, said to have originated from an elder scroll. Allegedly the scrolls also tell of the coming of the last "Dragonborn", who is able to permanently defeat this foe.

A delightful notion, for sure, but hearsay prophecy is by no means a solid foundation upon which to base our investigation. It is indeed a preposterous notion; a mortal being born with the soul of a dragon, yet the Empire would have you believe that the entire Septim dynasty, all the way from the esteemed Tiber Septim to Martin, bastard son of Uriel VII and false saviour of the Oblivion crisis were also dragonborn! If by some chance that was the case, I would think that the appearance of another dragonborn now would be most unlikely given the condition's supposed hereditary nature and the untimely demise of the Septim bloodline.

As usual, General Tullius was quick blunder into the discussion and dismiss the Legate's claims as "Nord nonsense". Once again I found myself in awe of his restrained diplomatic sensibilities. He holds true that the dragon that destroyed Helgen was no real resurrected dragon, merely the summons of some rogue mage in the employ of the rebellion. But one does not simply live for 379 years and learn nothing of reading people. Beneath the facade of authoritative bravado, I could sense his fear. Fear of his Empire's weakening grasp on the province. Fear that the return of the dragons will be enough to push Skyrim over the edge. Excellent.

In other matters, the civil war would appear to have been resumed, with now confirmed reports of Windhelm hailing the return of the true high king. The Imperials were preparing to crown Jarl Elisif to replace their deceased puppet king Torygg, but with the return of Ulfric the Moot is once again contested, and the war should continue in its indecisive manner as we had intended. The Dominion demands more time to regain her strength, in preparation for delivering the final crushing blow. In the meantime, we must do what we can to sew disrepute within the Empire's provinces. To this end, the Helgen incident could not have suited our purposes any better, even if the prophecy Legate Rikke spoke of would seem to imply the onset of the end times. Alas, all is not yet well and good in Skyrim.

We are still in the dark regarding the true cause of this dragon phenomenon, and what it could really mean. I believe that if anyone were to offer any insight into this matter, it would be the Blades. Regrettably, as a result of their Akavirii origins, the Blades' expertise with the dragons has been far superior to our own primarily theoretical knowledge of the dragons for some time. Unfortunately, the Blades were able to destroy or remove all evidence of their extensive dragonlore repository before the siege of Cloud Ruler temple, so we will not find any enlightenment amongst the evidence that was recovered. Despite this, we do still have an encouraging lead.

My attention has been turned towards a certain Blades fugitive by the name of Esbern. Before the First War against the Empire, he was a Blades loremaster and was one of the foremost experts on the history of Akavir, and more importantly the dragons. Due to Esbern's old age and lack of field experience, my predecessor foolishly dismissed him as a low-priority target and omitted to keep Esbern's file properly updated, but he is believed to still be in hiding somewhere in Skyrim, having evaded capture for decades. But now his own elusive nature will serve to benefit the Thalmor, and we shall be killing two birds with the same stone, as it were, by enacting justice upon a terrorist in the process. Besides, I still haven't ruled out the Blades from being the party responsible for the dragon phenomenon.

I'm dedicating my resources here at the embassy to finding and capturing this individual for an extensive interrogation. Thankfully I have spent a fair bit of the past 14 years setting up a robust network of civilian informants in every hold, even those currently occupied by the rebellion. In the past they have yielded impressive results when presented with a sizeable monetary incentive, whilst providing a subtle reminder that the Thalmor does not tolerate failure. It's a standardised procedure. We already have our agents on the lookout for reclusive elderly Nord men, and has ordered them to return to the embassy with the utmost haste to collect their first installment should there be evidence of the suspect, before I approve a seize and sequester order on the suspect.

Rest assured, the net is closing in on Esbern. It's only a matter of time before something comes up. For the glory of the Aldmeri Dominion!

-Elenwen


	5. 19 Last Seed: Markarth

Middas 19 Last Seed

This evening I find myself in the city of Markarth. I was summoned by my ambassadorial duties to negotiate the release of a respected Elsweyer national, deemed an asset to our diplomatic mission, whose associate came to us at the embassy claiming he had been falsely imprisoned by the city guard in some ghastly forced labour camp known as Cidhna Mine. When I arrived at the mine, however, a brutish Orsimer woman grunted in the general direction of the prisoner: already dead at the hands of another inmate, stabbed to death with some kind of makeshift blade over a bottle of Skooma. What a dreadful waste of time that was.

I hate to be away from the embassy when the investigation requires my undivided attention, and naturally I was apprehensive about travelling, as I feared the very real possibility that there may be dragons at large. Thankfully we experienced no such encounter. Instead, however, our progress was impeded as we passed the Karthspire when a ferocious young woman dressed most indecently in ragged furs and wielding some kind of flint axe, no doubt a member of the local Forsworn savages unleashed a multitude of large boulders directly in front of the carriage, thus forcing us to stop.

I disembarked the carriage and proceeded to use my honed telekinesis spell to enact a certain poetic justice with one of her own rocks. My mer quickly dispatched the rest of the marauders who appeared shortly thereafter. Nobody was badly hurt, but it certainly was a nuisance to calm the horses and clear the road again. It's remarkable to think that a mere 25 years ago, during the First War when the had Empire become so desperate that it began to neglect its own provinces, these Reachmen had overrun the hold and established their own independent kingdom.

It was not to be, however. That uprising was soon put down by none other than Ulfric Stormcloak and his Nord militia, in return for which Jarl Igmund and the Empire foolishly promised them free worship of Talos. Needless to say, this promptly came to an end when the Thalmor Justiciars were deployed to the Reach. Obviously the Empire couldn't afford another war, and Jarl Igmund was forced to break his promise. This so-called "Markarth Incident" was of particular tactical value to my organisation because it was seen by Ulfric as the last of the Empire's many betrayals that would push him to start that little rebellion of his.

Ulfric's gullibility has been so useful to us. He has no idea that all these years he has served as a mere tool of his Elven masters for whom he holds so much resentment. Once I learned of his worth as son of the Jarl of Windhelm, he was conditioned to believe that the information I had extracted from him was invaluable to the fall of the capital, before his "escape" from the Leyawiin Jail was arranged on orders from Lord Naarifin himself. Did he really believe I would have unknowingly had him transferred to the cell which we never used because of its dilapidated brickwork and its proximity to a certain not-so-secret passage, once used by a former count for torturing Argonian prisoners? Schemes like that really were their own reward in the Inquisition Corps.

I took dinner at Understone keep, prepared by the Jarl's resident master chef (as far as humans are concerned), Anton Virane. He served the Potage la Magnifique, signature dish of the Gourmet, who the chef claims to be a close friend of. It was as pleasing to the palette as ever, and came as a welcome change from the usual slop served by a Jarl's court. We were also indulged with an increasingly rare vintage of Tamika's West Weald wine (not produced by the original Tamika, of course), one of the few good things Cyrodiil has brought to the table over the years. Unfortunately the Tamika vineyards was a casualty of the First War, desecrated by our less cultured Bosmeri cousins I believe. So much for their beloved Green Pact. Only a few dozen bottles of this particular year survive to this day.

At least that was something to show for this most wasteful excursion. That and having learned of some very interesting news from the other holds. There is talk in the Jarl's court of a second dragon attack, this time at Whiterun. Reportedly it burned down one of the watchtowers before the city guard were able to kill it. It's difficult to discern any motivation for this attack, other than an attempt to weaken the hold's already precarious position in the civil war and perhaps provoke Balgruuf to take a side in the impending hostilities and thus deepen the conflict. Still, it does at least suggest that these dragons, despite their legendary reputation, are not impervious to the weaponry of mere city guards, much less the wrath of the Thalmor. Curiously, the deceased dragon is said to have combusted vigorously following death, leaving behind only skeletal remains.

Further still, the Nords have become very excitable over what I had assumed to be no more than distant thunder yesterday evening. Instead, this was apparently the sound of the Greybeards, a reclusive order of monks who live near the summit of the Throat of the World practising their 'shouting' or something of that nature. For reasons unbeknownst to myself they are revered by the populace, who believe that they were summoning this dragonborn Legate Rikke mentioned to their monastery. To be honest I wasn't expecting anything to come of this ridiculous prophecy for at least another week, and I very much doubt that this individual will be coming forward any time soon, if at all. But if they do, this dragonborn can be sure that they will be under the closest scrutiny of the Thalmor.

For once upon a time, the self-proclaimed dragonborn emperors of the Septim dynasty would employ the Blades as their personal paramilitary taskforce, but they have been without real purpose for 200 years so it is entirely possible that the appearance of the latest dragonborn may be enough to displace some of the more devious Blades splinter cells in Skyrim who have thus far escaped justice, such as the infamous Delphine or even our current priority target Esbern. Alas if this is the case and the dragonborn chooses to associate with such a nefarious organisation then I may have no choice but to have them eliminated. That said, this is a hypothetical course of action, as I have yet to see any tangible evidence of this dragonborn's sudden reappearance.


	6. 20 Last Seed: A Potential Lead

Turdas 20 Last Seed

Upon my return to the embassy, I was pleasantly surprised to learn that in my absence one of Rulindil's informants in the Rift has already come forward with promising information. It never ceases to astound me just how quickly the Nords are to discard their quaint notions of pride and honor when one waves a copious purse of Imperial gold coin in front of their noses. I don't recall that it was ever quite this simple at the Cyrodiil embassy, but there again the Imperials are somewhat more astute than their simplistic neighbours in matters of financial reimbursement.

The informant in question, a rather uninspired 'businessman' who goes by the name of Gissur I believe, arrived at the embassy claiming to have sighted Esbern. At least this was his original story, but following further questioning it was revealed that he has not in fact seen Esbern himself, but rather by proxy of another individual. Naturally by the time I had returned to the embassy Rulindil had already turned him around and sent him on his way again with a platoon of Justiciars and a Sieze and Sequester warrant for this witness.

Admittedly it's hardly the strongest of leads. Rulindil informs me that in the past this Gissur has come across as rather too self-centred for our preferences, often putting his payment before his duties when it comes to assisting the implementation of justice, but as much as I hate to admit it, this sleazy little human is currently our best indication of Esbern's whereabouts. Still, if he fails to yield results soon, I can always have him introduced to our resident troll in the sub-basement, indeed a salutary reminder to those who fail to take their duties with due sincerity.

On the subject of the troll cave, I was forced to dispose of our latest fugitive Talos worshipper this afternoon. In hindsight it would seem that I may have gotten ahead of myself in my application of a certain shock spell I've been working on, such that the prisoner's flesh was melted onto her shackles and she subsequently withdrew from life. May Auri-El show mercy for her blasphemy in the aetherial plane. Still, I was able to ascertain the whereabouts of a most bothersome hidden shrine in Falkreath hold, allegedly located shamefully close to the Imperial fortress of Helgen. This time Justiciar Arwen shall take no prisoners.

There was also a rather disturbing incident this evening, however. I was conversing with Rulindil after dinner when I had to retrieve a few documents from my solar. I went into the basement to find some interrogation notes, and was shocked to discover none other than Brelas, who was supposed to be airing my chambers. Time and time again I have reiterated that the basement is strictly off-limits to civilian staff. There was no excuse for this intrusion. Most upsetting of all, however, was that the Bosmer wench seemed to be mourning the death of a heretic. Excuses were made, but it was clear what was going on: the feebly concealed scraps of food from the kitchen and the healing potion completed the whole sorry image.

It would seem that young Brelas has seen too much of our operation for her own good. For such information to leave these walls and reach the knowledge of the populace would be most damaging to the diplomatic relations between the people of Skyrim and the Aldmeri Dominion. As First Emissary, it is my duty to ensure that my diplomatic mission is not compromised, and sometimes this entails the disposal of a troublesome individual. Unfortunately, with this month's reception so close at hand that I cannot afford to spare a single member of the catering staff. In the meantime a damn good thrashing has to suffice. In the meantime I can only hope that fear for her family's personal safety alone will be enough to discourage her from divulging the unsavoury details, that is if she hasn't already done so.

Luckily for her, I have more pressing concerns to attend to at the moment.


	7. 21 Last Seed: An Extraordinary Sighting

A/N: Sorry, I haven't updated this much recently because of some IRL distractions, but anyway, thanks to everyone who took the time to read this far into the fic and perhaps even wrote a review. This chapter is a little different. It was inspired by an in-game encounter where I saved a Thalmor wizard from a dragon, and left me wondering what he'd tell his boss afterwards (if he wasn't a radiant NPC of course).

Fredas 21 Last Seed

A most invigorating occurrence in an otherwise uneventful day occurred this evening: I found myself perusing the mystical delight of Skyrim's _Aurora Borealis _from the perimeter walkways as I often like to do on a clear night after dinner, when one of our wizards came staggering through the front gate, robes scorched and tattered, before collapsing in the middle of the courtyard. After he had been carried into the barracks and revived somewhat, I naturally began to inquire as to the nature of his predicament. After all, a highly trained Thalmor magister does not make a fool of himself, at his own embassy no less, without first having a very good reason to be doing so.

I was able to ascertain that the wizard had been on a fairly straightforward Sieze & Sequester assignment, escorting a Stormcloak prisoner to our detention facility at Northwatch Keep for second degree manual uncoiling. It was as they traversed the tundra due south of Rorikstead when what he describes as a black dragon with red eyes, not dissimilar from the creature that I witnessed attacking Helgen, suddenly appeared from behind the east ridge of the Druadach mountains and flew low over the road before pausing to hover next to a Nordic barrow of sorts. He ordered his mer to lay low.

The scene the wizard described next was most fascinating, I will quote from his official incident report, which was remarkably illustrative and well-composed given the circumstances: "The dragon roared at the barrow, and a cascade of glowing effervescence began to surge from the top of the burial mound, thus displacing its contents and revealing the skeletal remains of a second dragon. The skeleton then proceeded to crawl away from its grave, gaining flesh, claws, scales and other features to be expected of a dragon at an alarming rate. The two dragons then exchanged a few words in an unknown tongue, before the first took to the skies and headed off into the distance."

The wizard insisted that his eyes did not deceive him. If this is so, then we now have a clearer insight into the nature of the phenomenon. It would confirm my suspicions that the dragons are indeed being resurrected, rather than summoned, and that the agent manifesting this process is in fact a dragon itself. Could it be that when one dragon is brought back to life, it proceeds to enact the same ritual upon other dead dragons? I shall be sure to probe Esbern for further enlightenment in this matter. Alas, this information alone fails to explain the motivations of the party who set the process in motion, and why dragons are being resurrected to begin with.

Returning to the wizard's account, his prisoner then decided that this distraction would make a good opportunity to attempt an escape. His justiciars gave chase, which drew the attention of the dragon. It scoured the road with its fiery breath, leaving behind only charred bones and warped armor. The wizard narrowly avoided the worst of the flames and made a tactical retreat, casting an invisibility magick to hide himself before the dragon inevitably returned for a second pass.

And yet the most outrageous part of his ordeal was still to come: "Moments later a foolhardy warrior came galloping in on horseback and dismounted. Next he used what was presumably some kind of "shout", which seemed to attract the dragon's attention. He skillfully evaded the dragon's flames and low altitude attacks, until eventually he caught the beast with his sword as it swooped in low, trying to grab him. 'Twas a glancing blow, but enough to stall the dragon and send it careening into a nearby henge."

"The now enraged dragon got back to its feet, and bellowed a column of fire at the warrior. Undeterred, he charged forth and struck the dragon in the side of the head. Alas the creature's thick scales deflected the brunt of the attack, and the creature reared its enormous head to snap with fearsome jaws. But the warrior stepped aside and countered, shield-bashing the dragon square in its face with all his might. There came a sickening crunch as scales shattered and the ugly head reared, crying out in anguish."

"The dragon's fate was sealed as the fearless warrior clambered onto its person, seemingly searching for a weakness amongst a mass of scales. His blade glinted in the midday sun before being driven deep into the top of the creature's head, letting loose a spray of crimson. The dragon's whole body convulsed for an instant, before crashing to the ground and laying still."

"The warrior planted his sword in the ground and stood back as if to admire his kill, flexing his sinewy arms. As he did so, the dragon's skin seemed to evaporate in a manner similar to that described earlier, except this time the incandescent substance was seemingly absorbed by the human, until once again only bones remained. The warrior then made his way back to his steed, and rode off at a leisurely trot in the direction of Haafingar, as if such events were but an almost daily occurrence."

What a remarkable account. In any other circumstances, a Thalmor officer would expect a dishonorary discharge for such an outburst as this in an official document. But somehow I am inclined to believe it. If I didn't know better, I might have said that this individual was the famed dragonborn. Perhaps he was. Perhaps not. Whoever he was, he was certainly no mere adventurer or sellsword. I don't care to speculate on the matter, but its certain that he would make for a formidable opponent - or asset.

Sadly, despite all his other vivid imagery, our wizard was only able to describe him as a "young male Nord of advanced muscular development". He explains that he was situated a safe distance away from both combatants for the remaining duration of the battle, and the warrior's face was largely obscured by a horned iron helmet. Needless to say, such a description is not particularly helpful when attempting to identify an individual amongst the vast expanse of Skyrim.

Once again, my attention turns to Esbern. Supposing for a moment that this individual is the fabled dragonborn, and therefore given his intrinsic connection to the Blades, it would seem logical that if Esbern had not already made contact with this individual, then he may at least be able to enlighten us as to the dragonborn's place in the grand scheme of these resurrections, and if there may be any truth to the prophecy.

In any case, I would be most interested to meet this individual. Perhaps if I was able to dissuade him from his Blades allegiances, perhaps put some more creative viewpoints on the Blades' various atrocities throughout history, I might be able to put together a proposition. After all, doesn't every bargain has its price? It goes without saying that an alliance with "the dragonborn" himself would be most beneficial, for both diplomatic and practical purposes. An alliance that would be ahead of its time, however.

For now, Esbern remains our first priority, as he is imperative to unlocking the secrets of both the dragons and the dragonborn.


	8. 22 Last Seed: Final Preparations

**A/N: Sorry, this chapter has been** **way too long in the making. I hope it's worth it. In this chapter, Elenwen documents the penultimate day before the "diplomatic immunity" quest, and quite a few of the guests are based on what is sort of cut content from that. Enjoy!**

Loredas, 22 Last Seed

Today the embassy was positively thronging with activity, and not only because it is tomorrow that I extend my hospitality to the upper classes of Skyrim, such as they are. In the morning I went over to Northwatch to meet the first detachment of high mages, who have just marched in from Alinor. Thus far they had not been made aware of the current situation in Skyrim, so I was there to provide enlightenment. The mages had suspicious as to the nature of their latest assignment, and rightfully so. To call upon some of the finest minds the Aldmeri Dominion has to offer and use them for mere treaty enforcement duties would be a travesty. The high mages will be needed to help unravel the conundrums of the dragon crisis and besides, their knowledge of the destruction school will be invaluable when the Thalmor is called upon to do battle with a dragon.

I returned to the embassy for luncheon just in time to witness Gissur staring ahead gormlessly as some of the mer tackled a human boy to the ground outside my solar before dragging him screaming into the basement. Such fun. As I had suspected, this was Gissur's witness: I'm to understand he was found in the Riften jail, serving a fortnight for petty thievery. The jailor barely glanced at Gissur's warrant before turning him over. Nobody will be missing him. But until we confirm his story, Gissur isn't getting paid, nor is he permitted to leave the embassy.

Sadly, what with so much else going on this weekend I won't have a chance to interrogate the prisoner myself. And I was so looking forward to consummating my new thumbscrews. I suppose Esbern will be given that honor. The Third Emissary believes that a mere two days should tell the tale. But there again, Rulindil is more straight to the point in matters of "forced diplomacy". He prefers a traditional lumbar extension on the rack, or simply having one of the soldiers bludgeon the prisoner into submission, rather than delving into more creative methods.

Meanwhile, I've been busy making final preparations for my ambassador's reception tomorrow evening. I always wish I could host them more often, except for on the penultimate day when all the civilians running underfoot tends to be an awful distraction. But really, I do love to take on the role of hostess. It's also a great opportunity to learn the latest gossip, and hear all the most intriguing rumours: who's got a Talos shrine in their basement? Who lives next door to a fugitive Blades agent? These things tend to slip once someone's been indulged the finest of hospitality.

I must say that the turnout has been most pleasing this time around, with all of the Imperial Jarls in attendance as well as many other thanes and important persons. Unfortunately Third Emissary Rulindil will not be present, as he feels the need to press on with the interrogation surpasses his duties as a diplomat. I've made some quick notes on a few of the most interesting guests below:

Maven Black-Briar: As the matriarch of Skyrim's most influential clan, it's no secret that Maven has monopolized Skyrim's mead industry and runs the Rift from behind the scenes. Luckily for us, however, Maven respects power, and naturally respects the Thalmor. In the past she has been most helpful in letting the Justiciars in the Rift go about their duties unhindered by Nord rabble, as well as using her influence in the Jarl's court to do certain "favours" for my government. I'll be sure to make some passing inquiries as to Esbern's whereabouts. I'm always pleasantly surprised to learn what Maven's thieves guild contacts are reporting.

Vittoria Vici - not is Vittoria only the head of the East Empire company's operations in Skyrim, but she is also first cousin to Emperor Titus Mede II. The Aldmeri Dominion is always looking to expand its shipping operations in southern Hammerfell and the Gold Coast, which I suspect will become particularly useful during the Second War, so it is particularly important to give this prestigious young lady a taste if the benefits that are accrued to those who align themselves with Thalmor interests in hope that she might be inclined to sign a few business deals, even in light of her cousin's certain protests. I also understand she is to be wed to Asgeir Snow-Shod, son of a Stormcloak family and incidentally one of Maven's business partners. From what I've heard, it sounds like another ill-advised attempt at reconciliation, alas a very precarious arrangement to be tampering with at the moment given the circumstances. After all, I wouldn't want to be the one to dismember the bride, figuratively speaking. I'm sure someone else will do that for me soon enough anyway.

Commander Ondolemar is one of my foremost "Talos-hunters", currently overseeing our operations in the Reach. If not only for the complimentary buffet, Ondolemar likes to be invited to my parties so he can sneer at Skyrim's aristocracy and berate the Empire's inadequacies. I've asked him to be polite and take a diplomatic approach, but even that seems difficult for a young and ambitious officer at times.

Balgruuf the Greater, Jarl of Whiterun: Somewhat grudgingly, Balgruuf has accepted my invitation. I would hazard a guess that this is why he is being accompanied by his apologetic Imperial steward, Proventus Avenicci, as if to keep the Jarl from saying something he'll regret later on. An amusing thought. He must be most upset about his watchtower being burned down.

Elisif the Fair, Jarl of Solitude: Following her husband's most unfortunate demise at the hands of Ulfric Stormcloak, Elisif is set to become the next client queen of Skyrim. A mere figurehead, of course, with the Imperial governor and therefore the Thalmor holding all the real influence, but what with the Nords being so easily pleased it's still important to nurture good relations with Skyrim's prospective monarch at this stage.

Erikur, Thane of Solitude: Unlike the average denizen of Skyrim, Erikur is not obsessed with honor and skill at arms. Far from it, in fact. Instead, he has come to epitomize a certain pretentious niche in Skyrim's aristocracy that all too readily reminds me of the obsequious nobles I had to deal with every day at the Cyrodiil embassy. Of course, he says all the right things to try and impress his Elven masters, but really its the personal financial gain that is his sole motivation in doing so.

General Tullius - I like to invite the Imperial governor to my parties to remind everyone of the Empire's place in the grand scheme of things. Besides, I wouldn't want the good General to miss out on the festivities - not that he'd dare to. I just hope that this time my attempts to emphasize the formal dress code in my invitations don't go unnoticed, and for once he'll come wearing something other than that ridiculous Legion skirt.

Idgrod Ravencrone, Jarl of Morthal: In the past Idgrod has come across as somewhat superstitious, and even distrusting of the Thalmor. It is my hope that we can rectify these disturbing feelings by showing the Jarl that we reward our friends well.

Igmund, Jarl of Markarth: Ever since Igmund's embarrassing involvement with the Markarth incident, he has leapt at every opportunity to make amends. I appreciate the effort, but words are one thing, and actions are another. The Reach remains the most problematic of the Imperial holds, despite all of Commander Ondolemar's efforts to the contrary, so it would appear that perhaps the Jarl is not pulling his weight, so to speak. I'd hate to upset the festive atmosphere, but I feel that I may have to have a word with Igmund at some point.

Orthus Endario: I haven't met Orthus before, but he's head of the East Empire Company in Windhelm. I wasn't even aware the East Empire Company still existed in Windhelm until a few weeks ago, but Vittoria explained to me that his branch has fallen on hard times as of late, having to contend with third-rate Argonian and Dunmer labor as well as pirate attacks. I'll be sure to inquire further into the matter when we meet. Surely the company would be most attracted to the lucrative offer of protection from such unsavoury characters when running Thalmor trade routes.

Razelan: A fine specimen of humanity if ever there was one. Vittoria assures me that he is the communications director of the East Empire Company in Skyrim. If that's so then the company has certainly relaxed its standards in recent years. Last time he was already intoxicated upon arrival and made a dreadful scene by upsetting the carvery and spilling alto wine down the Third Emissary's uniform. Rzelan's antics are also remembered somewhat vividly by the soldiers, who were once called upon to extricate his unconscious person from the roof of the barracks. Malborn is to refuse him bar service should he arrive in such a state.

Siddgeir, Jarl of Falkreath: Siddgeir is one of the few Jarls who can not only lay aside the foolish notions of what the Nords would call honor, but can also appreciate my taste in fine food and wine. Most importantly of all, he respects the importance of the Thalmor's diplomatic mission to Skyrim, and our invaluable work in rooting out the forbidden Talos worship wherever it might be found. A fine example of what can become of a Nord who puts in a bit of effort to accept change.

I plan to start the evening with the alto wine, Arenthia red and even Colovian brandy of all things. I'd always regarded brandy as an after-dinner drink, but apparently conventions are different in Cyrodiil. Later on I'll open a case of Firebrand wine, a heavy red with a potent nose and a curious warming sensation to it. And of course, there'll be the mandatory kegs of mead to keep some of the more "simple" Jarls happy. Black-Briar brand only, of course, so as not to upset Maven. I'll also be treating the guests to an expansive help-yourself banquet, featuring all the finest foods (for Skyrim, at least). As usual Tsavanni is doing an excellent job with presentation. You'd never have guessed it was all locally sourced. It's occasions such as this that allow me to overlook the odd Skooma-induced stupor or stray fur in my food.

In unrelated matters, I overheard some of the off-duty soldiers talking about some guardsman down in Solitude who is being given his last meal this evening. His crime: opening the city gate, thus allowing Ulfric Stormcloak to walk away from the city a free man after killing Torygg. It seems that if the man himself slips from the Empire's grasp, they're just as happy to soothe their wounded pride by taking the next asset to the crime and chopping their head off. I might use that to relieve some formality tomorrow, just to see General Tullius cringe.


	9. 23 Last Seed: The Party Crasher

**A/N: Sorry, this fic has lain dormant for far too long. I've been busy with a multitude of other things, but at long last I've put in the effort to continue. Without further ado, here's the long-awaited Diplomatic Immunity quest installment. **

Sundas, 23 Last Seed

A deeply disturbing incident took place earlier this evening, when it would appear an enemy spy was able to infiltrate my reception, and caused catastrophic damage to my diplomatic mission, including seven fatalities and making off with mission critical assets right under our noses. Most upsetting of all, however, was learning that the embassy has been compromised for some time now, as one of the co-conspirators of the attack was our very own "Malborn".

My suspicions were first raised when the spy arrived at the embassy. He was one of the last guests to arrive, at about the same time as Razelan. Strangely enough, although we had never met before I could have sworn I'd seen him somewhere before. Alas I couldn't place it, and I assumed that he was an invited guest, perhaps someone's housecarl or one of those minor noble types I have to pretend I've heard of from time to time. After all, the soldiers were under orders to admit only persons bearing signed invitations, and I've never had reason to doubt them in the past.

The spy must have spent about twenty minutes partaking in the festivities and conversing with the other guests, as well as myself. As I recall our chat concerned the ever-popular subject of the civil war, the invaluable work of the Thalmor justiciars and -heavens above- the expenses of my reception of all things! Truly there was no limit to his audacity. At a glance, nothing would have seemed too out of the ordinary, barring the hulking frame and hard face that, now I come to think about it, couldn't have looked more out of place in those fine robes, even for a Nord aristocrat.

I also seem to recall noticing a certain deft, weathered quality about his hands for some reason, perhaps because it seemed so unbefitting of a noble who had never worked an honest day in his life. Not in the same way as a skilled conjurer or alchemist, however. It more readily brought to mind a blacksmith, or even some kind of honorable knight. There was more to it than that, though. In the years of an Altmer he was barely fledged, and yet his perpetually deep blue eyes betrayed a lifetime of knowings. I dare say much like those of a dragon.

Sadly in a matter of minutes I was to learn that this human was among the most repugnant of men to have ever graced the Gods' green Nirn, when out of the blue Erikur started to cause a commotion, claiming that Brelas had thrown herself at the human in a most disgusting manner. Given Erikur's delicate sensibilities I would have expected him to be anything other than upset by such an occurrence, but by this point I just wanted to make him shut up, so I ordered my soldiers to take the wench downstairs. Besides, it would have made for a convenient explanation for her disappearance following an upcoming visit to the troll cave. I cannot discern whether this distraction was set up by the spy or merely coincidental, but whatever the truth of the matter it allowed him to escape.

It was only when one of the wizards interrupted me at the party when it occured to me that something was seriously amiss. As I recall he was supposed to be on duty, making sure no unauthorised persons entered the solar for the duration of the party, and when I demanded an explanation for him having left his post he seemed convinced that his orders were to report to me at once. When the wizard failed to identify the individual who had conveyed this erroneous instruction, I left Ondolemar in charge before heading out to investigate the irregularity.

I went into the drawing room and opened the closet to find a lantern, and that's when I stumbled upon the first bodies: two guards, one of whom had been relieved of his uniform. This spy was obviously a ruthless, experienced killer; everything was done by the book. No signs of a struggle, minimal blood loss and all of this not ten feet from where I had been standing moments before. It was frighteningly reminiscent of the work of a Blades agent. Moreover, the door to the drawing room had been guarded in plain sight of the other guests, which lead me to conclude that the spy had gone through the kitchen.

I raised the alarm before proceeding into the kitchen. There I found a shaken-looking Tsavanni. When questioned, the cat insisted that Malborn had threatened her with a knife as he lead a dubious individual into the pantry, where a chest full of concealed weapons and other nefarious effects had been waiting. I sent the wizard to fetch me some irons before instructing Malborn to step into the kitchen for a moment. I reminded the Bosmer that treason is a capital offence before taking him as leverage should the spy be captured alive.

Next we took a walk to the rear courtyard, where, as I had feared, nobody was guarding the front door. I scalded the wizard for taking orders from a complete stranger, a Nord, no less, but he insisted that the spy had appeared as an Altmer and had assumed he was one of the new high mages, an explanation that was concurrent with the rest of the courtyard detail. I can only assume that this Nord was not only a ruthless killing machine, but also an adept illusionist, a rare occupation amongst these backwards folk for sure. But there was no time to spare contemplating this as I rallied the mer and moved in to secure the solar.

Inside I found my home to be in a most upsetting state of disarray. The spy's looting etiquette had yet to match his finesse with the cloak and dagger. My office had been ransacked, the floor littered with upturned drawers, heaps of parchment and discarded books. Rulindil's office lay in a similar sorry state. In addition, he'd unsuccessfully attempted to force open the safe from my bedroom closet by throwing it down the stairs. Up to an hour after the attack we were still trying to trace a foul smell which was eventually determined to emanating from an unaccounted for casualty; she had been stuffed behind my potted plants with a single steel arrow in the temple.

Although a number of valuables including were stolen here and there, most notably various articles of Elven ornamental craftsmership that were plundered from Rulindil's display case, it appeared that the sole object of desire that motivated this tempest was a single piece of parchment: specifically, my report on the dragon investigation. Interesting. This raised questions about the spy's motivations, and who he could have been working for. It seemed apparent that they too had an interest in the dragon resurrection phenomenon, but if that were so, it would suggest that they believed my government was somehow responsible, and were looking for proof as such. Perhaps I'll laugh at the irony later.

Was it the Penitus Oculatus? No. Even if they had every reason to blame the Thalmor, the Imperials wouldn't dare make such an attack, for fear of jeopardising the delicate peace that stands between them and certain destruction. On the other hand, I would suspect a Stormcloak insurrection to be be more akin to a full frontal assault of some description. I fear that this cold, calculated elimination of all opposition combined with the most deviously underhanded skullduggery in infiltrating my party could be attributed only to a Blades agent. There again, what interest would the Blades, currently the most convincing suspects as the conspirators behind the dragon resurrection phenomenon, have in such intelligence?

What I witnessed next, however, was to add a whole new dimension to this conundrum. After sweeping the solar high and low and with no sign of the spy or Rulindil, it was determined that he had made the fatal mistake of cornering himself in the basement. I instructed two soldiers to take Malborn down to the basement and threaten to execute him if the the spy refused to show himself. A pause endured horribly, before someone yelled out incoherently downstairs and the whole building seemed to tremble with an unrelenting force of sorts.

Assuming a worst-case scenario, we stormed the basement at once from both staircases in an attempt to overwhelm the spy, alas it was to no avail. He was nowhere to be seen, leaving behind only the scene of carnage that graced the lower level. Debris had been strewn about the place, and the soldiers I had ordered downstairs moments ago lay sundered, broken, bleeding from various orifices, and impregnated with a coating of dust and splinters. Objects had been thrown against the far wall with such force that a hefty oak timber had been partially shattered. It was as though the fury of a god had been unleashed in my own basement.

The Third Emissary was among the other casualties. Given the distinctive scorch marks of misdirected lightning that were present on the wall, I can assume that he attempted in vain to apprehend the intruder and was cut down in the line of duty. May the divines rest his soul. As ever, this was no time to be getting sentimental, as both the intruder and the traitor Malborn had evaded capture, not before unlocking the containment cells, releasing Brelas and worse still the Breton boy, our lead to Esbern. It seems that they affected their escape by means of the corpse disposal hatch, and against all odds were able to evade the attention of the frost troll that dwells within.

Before returning to the party to smooth things over with my guests, I dispatched what remained of the rear courtyard detail in a last-ditch attempt to stop the spy and his band of miscreants before they left the hold, alas to no avail. Given that the average guardsman in Skyrim is some kind of failed adventurer who would sooner stand around filling himself with mead and sharing embittered tales of whatever war-wound bought him the job to begin with, I wouldn't trust them with recriminating the loss of a sweetroll, much less with assisting in the capture of a pathological fugitive. And even if I did place a bounty on the spy here in Haafingar it would be meaningless the moment he crossed into another hold. We have Skyrim's preposterous system of criminal justice to thank for that.

Similarly, I can't involve the legion in this. There'd be too much explaining to do, too much confidential information to divulge about the dragon investigation. The Imperials would only make matters worse. Besides, if General Tullius found out a spy had infiltrated the very same party he'd been at, then I would be a laughing stock for years to come.

Instead, I once again find myself with the need to utilise our own resources and even turn to some more unorthodox ones. I'd wager that the spy is not trying to leave Skyrim, but even so I've advised my colleagues at the High Rock embassy to be vigilant. Instead, the spy is probably fleeing to the relative safety of a Stormcloak hold, specifically the Rift. Why? Because amongst the wreckage in the basement I found Rulindil's interrogation notes, and it would seem that the prisoner did in fact break before he was rescued. He was apparently insisting that he had seen a "crazy old man" in the city's sewer networks.

It's not much to go by, but assuming that what little evidence I can find seems to suggest the spy infiltrated my embassy with the sole intention of finding out what we know about the dragon resurrection phenomenon, and has now taken our lead with him, it's logical to conclude that the prisoner has already divulged whatever else he knows about Esbern and is currently leading our spy to him. Obviously, this is absolutely not something I can allow, so I have already had Gissur escorted to Northwatch Keep, where he is to take a platoon of justiciars and ride post-haste to Riften, thus locating and extracting Esbern before our enemies can contact him.

In the meantime, I must do everything in my power to impede the spy's progress. Back at the party, I had the presence of mind to let Maven Black-Briar know that there'd be a good bit of money in it for her if the city of Riften were to be completely locked down to all visitors for a few days. Thank the gods for corrupt city guards; I don't know what I'd do without them. Additionally, I'll have someone perform the Black Sacrament. Not inside the embassy of course; the repeated stabbing of the effigy in particular tends to make an awful mess, and we've got quite enough to clean up after this evening's escapades as it is.

In the past, the Dark Brotherhood has made for extremely cost-effective disposal contractor. Even if they take a while to respond, I believe they've yet to fail a contract on behalf of the Thalmor. If only this human could appreciate how much trouble he's caused for himself. The assassins should make short work of him and leave him for the crows by the roadside. Even if by some chance he sees the ambush coming and manages to survive, my Justiciars should be capable of finishing him off in Riften now that he doesn't have the element of surprise on his side.

The Thalmor have very long memories, and those foolish individuals who meddle with our affairs only live to regret their actions. This spy, whomever he may be working for, is no different.


	10. 24 Last Seed: Cleanup

Morndas, 24 Last Seed

This morning, Rulindil was taken to the hall of the dead in Solitude for embalming, prior to his transit back to Alinor for a proper burial. The murdered security personnel, however, could be afforded no such luxury. Of course the mer were informed to the contrary, so as to protect what little morale there is left after last night's unsavoury happenings. Alas, in reality their service pensions were not sufficient to cover the logistics of it all, and after all, a troll needs to eat as well. I believe that the cave is considered to be a part of the embassy, so at least when I get round to writing all seven letters of apology their families will find some closure in knowing that their sons and daughters were laid to rest on what is technically Aldmeri soil.

Even now that the cleanup operation is nearing completion, I still find it jarring that I ever allowed this to happen in the first place. I can't help but feel as though my own complacency is to blame, and ultimately I have failed. It's just as I had feared: having spent so long in this benighted land, exposed to the elements and all the beastly Nords, I've begun to atrophy. But it's not so much the attack itself that upset me as such. Clearly the spy is a very dangerous individual with noteworthy infiltration skills; there was only so much anyone could have done. The thing that disturbs me the most is that this "Malborn" character had been working here at the Thalmor embassy for almost three years now, and I had never for a moment any reason to suspect that he was bent. It was only in the small hours of the morning, as I sought consolation in sleep that it struck me. I realised who he was. I was told there was an inferno that night in Falinesti. Nobody could've survived the purge. And yet, here we are.

As soon as Esbern is safely in my grasp, and our foolhardy assailant has been dealt with, I shall be sure to turn my attention to the Bosmer and finish the job. He's as good as dead. Nobody crosses the Thalmor and lives to tell the tale, let alone twice. And while I'm at it, I'm afraid I'll have to tie up some loose ends. There's no telling the full extent of the infection that exists within the embassy. It seems as though I'm going to have to make some permanent amendments to our payroll. Brelas was almost certainly collaborating with "Malborn" all along, what with that outrageous distraction of hers during the party. Chances are that she's still with Malborn as well. An opportunity to economise presents itself, indeed a welcome change in these lean times.

It was Thaeril's night off, so I have less reason to suspect her, and she at least put on a very convincing act of shock when I told her Malborn was responsible for the bloodstains she was scrubbing off a door frame. I wouldn't put it past Enilroth, even if he is here less frequently than the others. But he's also my maintenance specialist, and he has a certain way with the common folk, so I can't really afford to dispose of him in the aftermath of last night's carnage. Nonetheless, I'm not ruling out any possibilities here. After all, there's no telling who might've been responsible for conveying our spy his ill-gotten invitation in the first place. I'm afraid I also need to include Tsavanni here. I've never had reason to doubt her in the past, but there again, neither did I have any reason to doubt "Malborn". As per my uncle's old adage, it's always better to be safe than sorry.

I'm definitely going to bring J'datharr in. He owes me a favor, after all. I'm sure he could find a way for some of my staff to have a few tragic domestic accidents in the coming week. Even in the unlikely event that he is caught, the cat won't implicate us. He plays the part of a skooma-addled maniac wonderfully. As for the two Bosmer, I'm doubtless that he'll relish an opportunity to stalk his prey across the land like any good beast does. Perhaps I should look into hiring some Khajiit staff to replace them. It's the inherent substance dependence that keeps them docile and enforces loyalty. After all, I can never trust a human and now I don't even know if I can trust my fellow mer again. Until I can secure new contracts for the labor, I suppose I'll just have to iron my own uniform. Again, such are the sacrifices an ambassador must make.

All I can do for now is wait for Gissur to return, either with Esbern or not at all. Failure is absolutely not an option.


	11. 25 Last Seed: A Revelation

Tirdas 25 Last Seed

Today was very much one of suspense, for until Esbern has been recovered, there is little else I can do to further the dragon investigation. All I can do is wait for Gissur and my subordinates to return. In short, I am without power, and nothing good has ever come of that. This became painfully obvious this morning, when my high mages delivered their long-awaited situation report. It seems even here in Skyrim, with the best literature that could be recovered from Cloud Ruler Temple made available, that sparse headway has been made.

There's nothing in the way of tangible source material. With every line of inquiry that is pursued, it always comes back to the same damned prophecy. I was directed by my procurement specialist to one text in particular, _The Book of the Dragonborn_,by one Prior Emelene Madrine. It originates from within the Order of Talos, a certain heretical cult I took particular pride in expunging during my time as Third Emissary to Cyrodiil. I determined from my extensive interrogation work that said order was essentially a front for the Blades, so this is the closest we have to material from the 'dragonguard' themselves.

Most of the text was to be expected of a Blades agent, complete with the time-old convoluted history of the Empire and wishful thinking we've all come to loathe. But in spite of the clamorous efforts of the carpenters Enilroth has under a non-disclosure contract to repair the damage of whatever spell was cast in my basement at the weekend, I persevered until the end. Here I found the important part, the 'Prophecy of the Dragonborn' itself in writing.

_When misrule takes its place at the eight corners of the world,_

_When the brass tower walks, and Time is reshaped,_

_When the thrice-blessed fail, and the Red Tower trembles,_

_When the Dragonborn ruler loses his throne, and the White Tower falls,_

_When the Snow Tower lies sundered, kingless, bleeding,_

_The World-Eater wakes, and the wheel turns on the last Dragonborn._

It's obvious that the less than subtle symbolism found here refers to a selection of assorted historical events, including the eruption of the Red Mountain in Morrowind, the Aldmeri Dominion's glorious conquest of the Imperial City and the advent of the Stormcloak rebellion here in Skyirm. In itself, this appears somewhat unremarkable, that is until one considers when this text was supposedly authored. It dates back to 3E 360, long before these events could have been predicted, and the prophecy itself is supposed to be much older in itself.

I suspect somebody may well have modified the text later, or altered it in the process of producing later editions. Or perhaps not, for what really astounds me is that this book, which I'm assured has remained unaltered in the Thalmor archives for 16 years, contains a reference to the death of King Torygg, who was assassinated only a few months ago by Ulfric Stormcloak. The next event: the awakening of the world-eater, the dragons. It just seems too uncanny to be a mere coincidence. It's the kind of foresight that could be imbued by nothing less than an Elder Scroll. Perhaps there could be truth to this prophecy yet.


End file.
